


morning coffee

by knlalla



Series: quick fics [6]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: inspired by the lovely anon who sent me "I dreamed Dan posted an insta story of Phil drinking coffee in bed and he was laying on his shoulder and I kept trying to show people how cute it was but no one cared, and when I woke up I remembered that you would care, and I realized it was a dream and now I’m a tad disappointed in my subconscious for trolling me."





	morning coffee

He presses record, then lifts the coffee. It’s still too hot to drink, but the steam is _just_ visible in the early rays of light shining through the window. It’s rather aesthetic, Phil thinks, although that’s usually Dan’s thing. 

Dan _would_ appreciate it, he knows, if he weren’t half-asleep on Phil’s shoulder, cheekbone digging into the soft flesh in a way that should be uncomfortable but Phil can’t be bothered to mind. It’s only after he’s glanced over, intent on taking in the view himself, that he realizes he’s still recording.

He turns back - slowly, so as not to disturb Dan - and watches the video. It’s a strange reflection of himself, one he should be used to seeing, but Dan’s presence there, resting on him, adds a weight he didn’t anticipate.

But the video is there, he recorded it, and adding it to his story would be so simple, just a click…

He doesn’t let himself think, just presses the button, and then it’s done. Millions of people will be notified, will open up Instagram and click on his image. They’ll watch Phil stare at the curling wisps of steam, then they’ll watch Phil stare at _Dan’s_ curls. And they’ll probably freak out. And Phil will be okay with it. 

They’d talked about it, of course, during the last few legs of the tour, but it’s strange now to just _do it_. To throw every ounce of overwhelming caution they’d taken over the years to the wind and just…exist. Sometimes, when it’s late - or early - and Dan’s still asleep, the way he is now, Phil lets himself wonder if things might’ve been different. He doesn’t wonder _seriously_ , more in a passing, disconnected sort of way, but he wonders all the same.

And then Dan’s stirring, finally pulled back out of sleep. He’d been awake earlier, of course, but just barely long enough for Phil to grab some coffee and return. Then he’d been out again, resting in a way that Phil’s sure can’t have been comfortable.

If Dan’s grumbling is anything to go by, it wasn’t.

“I posted something,” Phil says, watching Dan’s hand fumble around the sheets for his phone. He’d left it on the bedside table until it’d become the crutch he needed to keep himself awake in Phil’s absence; then it’d fallen into disuse somewhere in the duvet.

“You what?” Dan asks, voice thick from sleep and a little raspy. Phil lets himself stare, lets himself absorb the calm before the storm - not that he expects Dan to be upset, more that he knows the etched lines of worry he’ll see in Dan’s features, the ones he swore up and down didn’t come from a place of fear but _it’ll just be different, that’s all._ There’s a thrill in Phil’s chest as he contemplates what to say, how to answer. 

Everything up to this point has been _talk_ : they’ll be more open after the tour, post more about their lives, maybe let a cheeky moment slip in there where they’re touching longer than usual, where they’re snuggled close on the sofa. They’ll see how it goes, they won’t try to force anything. Except it’s been nearly three weeks, and neither of them has done anything to that end - as he always does, Phil’s been waiting for Dan, waiting for him to make the first move, post the first story that hints at their relationship in a bigger way, but it hasn’t come. And Phil hasn’t pushed him. 

“An insta story,” he decides to say; it’s probably for the best if Dan just sees. Phil’s brain is nowhere near caffeinated enough to explain it in a way that won’t send Dan into a minor panic full of fast breaths and wide eyes, anyway. He takes a sip from his mug, finally cool enough not to leave any severe damage.

“An-” Dan breaks off, finally tugging his phone from under the pillow, and turns to Phil - in spite of his precautions, Dan sucks in a breath, eyes flicking back and forth between Phil’s in a way that says he understands exactly what Phil’s done, though he’s not entirely sure how to process it yet.

To be fair, he did only just properly wake up.

Before he can suggest it, Dan’s unlocking his phone, pulling up Instagram with a shaky finger. Belatedly, Phil wonders if he shouldn’t have at least _tried_ to explain what he did - he’s not sure what Dan’s thinking, but the deafening silence as he hunches over his phone sets Phil’s nerves on edge - what if it was a mistake? 

Here they were, _in bed together_ , and he’d posted an insta story? So much for subtlety, he’d gone and blown every half-baked ‘phan proof’ bed-sharing theory out of the water in a matter of seconds. Dan has every right to be nervous - hell, now Phil’s thinking about it, Dan could cuss him to high heaven and be _absolutely right_.

“I’m- I’m sorry!” Phil rushes out, voice cracking on the apology. “I should’ve asked first, I didn’t-” his train of thought comes to a complete stop as he watches Dan’s finger tap his icon, watches the view from the screen, watches what their audience has probably screencapped and downloaded and saved to every memory drive out there by now, because _surely_ it was just a fluke and Phil would never _really_ post something like that, right?

And they’d want to save it, just in case Phil decided to take it down.

“I’m so-” Phil starts again, but Dan’s still staring at the screen, replaying the video again. Phil can hear the deep breath he inhales, then exhales. He’s not entirely sure what to expect, but the next few seconds - the ones full of the Phil on the screen glancing over at screen-Dan, the ones in which a soft smile touches screen-Phil’s lips as his nose brushes screen-Dan’s curls - those will be _important_. They might very well change everything.

So Phil waits, because what else is there to do? It’s Dan, and once his mind is set, there’s no changing it.

“I’m going back to sleep.” Dan says it like it’s final, just as Phil expected, and drops his phone to the duvet; his mind won’t be changed, and Phil will have to deal with the consequences. With the fallout. With whatever comes next. But they’ve been through worse, haven’t they? They’ll survive, a little battered, a little harder, but they’ll-

Dan curls into Phil’s lap, head resting right on his stomach, and Phil’s free hand lands on his shoulder purely out of habit; he twists his lips, staring down at the nest of curls, because isn’t Dan upset? Isn’t that the reason for the tightness in his tone, the way he’s caved in on himself, the way he’s breathing against Phil’s hip in fast, unsteady breaths?

“Talk to me?” Phil asks softly; Dan shifts against him but doesn’t turn, and Phil’s left watching him in the exact same way he had been earlier. The way he will be for years and years to come, because nobody will forget that, no matter how quickly he gets to the story. The one Dan hasn’t bothered asking him to take down…

Silence falls around them in the wake of Phil’s question, a silence Phil’s becoming increasingly more desperate to break, but he needs an answer. So he waits, lets the time stretch until Dan’s breaths have slowed - he’s still awake, though, Phil can tell. He knows Dan’s lungs and exactly how they work, when they’re fast and slow and in between, when he’s angry or relaxed or worked up or gasping Phil’s name. 

“You really _do_ look at me like that.” Dan says softly, after another forty-seven even breaths have filled the air. And it’s not at all what Phil expected - the best he can offer in return is a confused hum, then another sip of his coffee, because surely caffeine and sugar can help him figure out what just happened, can’t they?

Dan does turn then, until his head rests against Phil’s thigh and he’s staring up, wide eyes a bit shimmery in the way that says he’s two seconds from tears. Phil’s lips tug down, and he lets his free hand cup Dan’s cheek - he _knew_ it was a mistake, or should’ve known, now Dan’s upset and-

“They always say you do, and I guess I’ve seen it, but you _really_ look at me like...” Dan trails off, interrupting Phil’s own spiral of worry; his eyes drift to the side, fixing absently on Phil’s chest, and he lets out a huff of laughter.

The sugar must kick in, or the caffeine, or some combination, because Phil’s brain finally catches up; he lets his hand trail through Dan’s hair, lets his heart and the curve of his lips drift upward. 

“Like I love you?” Phil offers, and Dan huffs out another breath - it’s not the first time they’ve said that, not by years and years and years, but Dan always acts like it is. Like it’s some novelty, a surprise that Phil would choose Dan over and over again, every single time. Dan nods into Phil’s hip, rolling his eyes at Phil’s ensuing chuckle. 

“It’s cause I _do_ ,” Phil confirms it anyway, which earns him a poke in the side that nearly sends his coffee flying across the duvet, but they both end up falling into a fit of giggles that says a lot more than any of their words do - that’s always been their language: touches, glances, eye rolls and fond smiles and smirks and lip bites and a myriad of other things that don’t quite translate to words. And Phil wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, lovelies! If you'd like, feel free to give it a cheeky lil [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/177601492412/i-dreamed-dan-posted-an-insta-story-of-phil)


End file.
